


Horny and Angry

by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)



Series: Empathy, Empathy, Put Yourself in the Place of Me [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Empath Stiles Stilinski, Focus on the Family is the actual worst, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Peter is a poor oblivious soul, Stiles Stilinski is Part of the Hale Pack, but to be fair why would he ever guess, by one asshole and he pays for it immediately, gays flock together, just throwing that out there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 11:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14495487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somanyofthekids/pseuds/twothumbsandnostakeincanon
Summary: High School begins!It's not like the musical at all.





	Horny and Angry

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I horribly abuse a nursery rhyme in here, but it probably won't make a ton of sense if you don't know the original Georgie Porgie. The original goes
> 
> Georgie Porgie Pudding Pie  
> Kissed the girls and made them cry  
> And when the boys came out to play  
> Georgie Porgie ran away
> 
> Good? Good.

Peter stood in front of the fridge, debating whether he wanted to put in the effort for scrambled eggs or if he should just grab a bag of chips.

Just because it was technically his first meal of the day didn’t mean it had to be a breakfast-type food, right? It was perfectly normal to eat potato chips at 3 in the afternoon. And he was starving- eggs would take longer.

Feeling solidly justified, Peter grabbed a bag of Ruffles from the pantry.

The front door opened just as he started scarfing down the chips, Cora and Stiles appearing in the kitchen a moment later.

Cora had a grin on her face and Stiles looked like he’d just watched someone barf.

“Hey Uncle Peter,” Cora said, trying and failing to steal the bag of chips from him.

“Get your own, you little miscreant,” Peter said without heat. He jerked his head in Stiles’ direction. “What’s his problem?”

Cora’s grin grew.

“It’s the first day of school, of course! We’re two of Beacon Hills freshest Freshman. It’s a new year, new teachers, new school full of new kids-”

“ _Everyone is horny and angry,_ ” Stiles finally spoke, still looking mildly horrified. “Every single person in that school constantly wants to punch someone or bone someone.” He paused, screwing up his face even more. “Oh god, what if they want to do both with the same person??”

Cora dissolved into laughter.

Stiles looked affronted. “You don’t have room to talk!” He pointed at her accusingly. “You’re just as bad as the rest of them!” he hissed.

Cora wiped a tear away, still chuckling. “Pretty sure you don’t need to be an empath to know that I’m literally always ready to throw down with anyone for any reason. And I plan on using the next four years to spread the good hand of lesbianism to every single girl at BHHS, so you might as well get used to it.” She bounced away into the pantry to get her own chips.

Peter looked over at Stiles. “Horny and angry?”

Stiles groaned pathetically. “Peter, it’s _so bad_ . I’m not a prude, alright? I’ve been swimming in a sea of other people’s emotions for my entire life. Lust and rage are as American as apple pie, I get it okay, but _oh my god_ it’s like something about the campus of the high school is an echo chamber for thirsty teenagers. It’s not normal.” Stiles suddenly gasped. “What if someone put a hex on the high school? Peter, that must be it, someone did a thing to the high school and now they _can’t_ feel anything except horny and angry, you have to come to the school with me tomorrow-”

“I’m not going back to high school to be your empathic earplugs every day, Stiles,” Peter interrupted, amused.

“Peterrrrrr,” Stiles whined. “I’m not gonna learn _anything_ for four years! I’m going to be a high school dropout all because Jimmy Football can’t stop thinking about jerking off long enough for me to learn literary exposition. It’s so distracting!”

Peter couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter.

“Go ahead, laugh at my misfortune.” Stiles crossed his arms and frowned. “When I have to panhandle in shady neighborhoods because I don’t have a high school degree, I’m going to deliberately get fleas and then come rub them all over your bed."

“Oh, come on.” Peter hooked an arm around Stiles’ neck and led him into the living room where they crashed together on the couch. He pulled Stiles’ head down onto his shoulder and set his chips down next to him so he could pick up the remote.

“You’ll get it worked out,” Peter said soothingly. “It’s just a new environment. It’ll take a few days for the new mix of emotions to become background noise, and then you’ll be able to ignore it like you always do.”

Stiles turned his face into Peter’s shoulder. “But what if I can’t? What if I can’t handle it at all? What if everything goes to shit and I’m terrible at being in high school-”

Suddenly it was all much clearer. Peter gently nudged Stiles’ head up to face him.

“Stiles, you’re not going to be fine,” he said very seriously. He waited just long enough for Stiles to look outraged, before he added, “you’re going to be _magnificent_.” Stiles tried to cover his surprise with an eye roll. Peter smirked.

“You’re so dumb,” he grumped, settling back down on Peter’s shoulder. “You really think so?” he added quietly.

“Yes, Stiles, I do. And you always know where to find me if you really do need earplugs for a while… I’m just not coming to the high school. Ever. For any reason.”

Stiles lifted his head once more, eyebrows furrowed.

Before he could ask, Peter said “You can feel all that lust and rage, but I can _smell_ it.”

“Ooooooh, yeah,” Stiles said, a look of realization on his face. “Oh _no.”_

“Oh no,” Peter agreed.

* * *

Peter, of course, was right. It only took about a week and a half for the new Empathic Eau de High School to fade mostly into the background. As much as anything did, anyway.

Stiles hummed to himself in the cafeteria, correcting Cora’s homework that she’d finished five minutes before. As she chowed down, Stiles absently sang the modified nursery rhyme that had been running through his head.

 _“Georgie Porgie pudding pie…_ this should be a six… _Georgie Porgie pudding pie, kissed the girls and made them cry…_ you need to simplify here… _and when the boys came out to play…_ simplify there too… hmm... _Georgie Porgie pudding pie, kissed the girls and made them cry, and when the boys came out to play, he kissed them too ‘cause he was gay!_ Okay, I think you’re good.”

Suddenly, Stiles felt someone’s attention zeroed in on him, first sharp suspicion, and then all curious interest. He looked up, and saw another Freshman boy looking at him. The boy waved, and Stiles awkwardly waved back. The boy leaned over to whisper to his friend ( _oh shit that was Jackson_ ), and a redhead who appeared to be Jackson’s girlfriend. A moment later they stood up and walked over to Stiles, Cora and Scott and sat down.

“Hi, I’m Danny! Apparently you already know Jackson, and this is Lydia. I like your version of Georgie Porgie better than the original.”

Stiles grinned in relief. He’d been worried for a minute that his rhyme had been misconstrued as homophobic, but actually…

“The best poetry is always about representation of self,” he said, smiling widely.

Danny snorted. “Then mine would have to go more like,

_‘Georgie Porgie pudding pie,  
_ _kissed the boys and made them cry,  
_ _and when the girls came out to play,  
_ _Georgie Porgie ran away.’”_

Cora mused through a mouthful of granola bar, “I could keep the original, except Georgie would be Georgina.”

“Then it wouldn’t fit the syllable structure,” said Lydia primly.

Cora raised her eyebrow. “I guess your version would be ‘Georgie Porgie salad for lunch?’”

Lydia looked at her frostily, but before she could say anything Danny began,

_“Lydia Pydia pudding pie,  
_ _kissed the girls and made them cry,  
_ _and when the boys all came outside,  
_ _she kissed them too ‘cause she was bi.”_

“Yes!!” Stiles high fived Danny.

Jackson rolled his eyes, and said, “Jackson, Jackson, thinks this is a cafeteria, not a poetry slam.”

“That was awful, no one would snap for that,” Stiles said. Jackson sent him a flat look.

Scott wrinkled his nose. “Mine would start ‘Scotty Potty.’ I don’t even know if I’m straight or not anyway. What rhymes with ‘I’m not ready to rule out any options?’”

 _“Scotty Potty pudding pie,  
_ _had his options cut and dry,  
_ _and when decision time arrived,  
_ _Scotty Potty hadn’t made up his mind,”_ tried Stiles.

“Too many syllables in the last line, it doesn’t follow the form,” critiqued Lydia before abruptly changing the subject. “Did you know this school doesn’t have a GSA?”

Stiles shrugged. “I hadn’t thought about it. Are you guys starting one?”

“If we can find enough members and get a teacher to sponsor us,” said Danny. “Would you be up for joining?”

Stiles looked between Scott and Cora. Cora was still looking distrustfully at Lydia, but Scott just looked confused.

“GSA?”

“Gay-Straight Alliance,” Stiles answered.

“Oooh! Sure!” Scott answered happily, shoving another bite of peanut butter sandwich into his mouth.

“Being in a club, and better yet being involved in the establishment of one, will look fantastic on college applications,” Lydia said, prim and airily as if she wasn’t trying to talk them into joining.

Stiles looked at Cora. “You did say you wanted to spread the good hand of lesbianism to all the girls at BHHS,” he said.

There was a tiny choking sound across the table, but when they looked over Lydia was just checking her lipstick in a compact.

Cora shrugged. “Yeah, I guess it sounds good.”

Stiles looked at Danny, who was smiling brightly. “Looks like you have at least six members in the Beacon Hills High School Gay-Straight Alliance.”

* * *

Peter sat back from his laptop, having just closed out the Skype window from the conversation with his Japanese contact, and glanced at the clock.

2:30 a.m.

He rubbed his eyes. He needed to get his notes down while the information was fresh in his mind.

“Hey pumpkin eater,” came a voice from the door of his office.

He blearily looked up in the dim light to see his mother standing there in her robe, holding a brownie.

“I woke up and remembered that I hid this behind the bread box. Had to go get it immediately. You want some?”

She was offering to share a brownie with him; one of Joseph’s brownies.

“Oh my god are you dying?” Peter blurted.

 _“What?”_ she asked incredulously.

Peter threw up his tired arms. “I don’t know! You haven’t called me Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater in eight years! And the last time you shared a brownie, it was with Lila because her fiancée left her at the altar, so _something_ must be happening!”

Grandma sighed. “Yeah, maybe. Do you want the damn brownie or not?”

“Of course I do,” he said indignantly.

She came all the way in, bringing the second rolly chair over to Peter to sit. They shared the brownie in silence for a moment.

“I think something _is_ happening,” Savage Grandma finally confirmed. “And I think it’s happening with you.”

“With me?” Peter asked, honestly surprised. “Nothing’s changed with me. I’m fine.” He took another bite of brownie.

“Peter, when’s the last time you went to bed before two in the morning? Or got more than four hours of sleep in a row?”

Peter started to cross his arms defensively before his brain caught up with his actions and clued him in on how that wouldn’t help his case. He tried to appear relaxed.

“I’ve just been busy lately,” he said casually.

“Hm,” Grandma agreed. “Getting more and more busy all the time. Who are you consulting for this time?” she asked, faux innocently.

Peter glanced to the side and took another bite of brownie to stall. 

“Our pack counts as a client,” he said eventually. “I’m taking over as Spymaster, I’m supposed to _know things.”_

“The Spymaster is intended to gather and organize information shared by members of the pack,” Grandma reminded him. “And to look into specific problems directly affecting the pack. This,” she gestured at his closed laptop, “is not that.”

Peter’s mouth tightened.

“The Spymaster, like every adult position in a pack, is intended to keep the pack _safe,”_ he rebutted. “Power means safety and knowledge is power. There’s so much we don’t know, Mom.”

Peter stood up, and flitted around the room, clearly agitated.

“We didn’t know where Gerard was when he left France. We didn’t even know that he’d _left_ France until Chris called us- Gerard could have arrived and taken Stiles before we even knew he was in danger.”

Peter picked up a notebook and put it on his desk.

“When that warlock moved in to town, we didn’t know the exact spell he was attempting. Did you know that there’s a version that requires the sacrifice to be kept alive and constantly bleeding? I didn’t know that.” He picked the notebook back up and flipped through it before laying it in a desk drawer. “We could have been up against something so much worse.”

Grandma watched him silently, observing his twitchy movements and smelling the anxiety simmering below the surface.

“We don’t even really know anything about Stiles’ empathy or psychometry. You know his mom could read the empathic future right? And Stiles feels the present and the past. What if something’s wrong? What if that’s not how he’s supposed to work and he’s sick?”

Grandma looked on in mild disbelief. “Peter, you know we’d smell it if something were wrong with his health.”

“What about his loud days? Are those normal?” Peter paced over to the window and drummed his fingers against the glass.

“He hasn’t had one since he moved in,” Grandma reminded him. “Between therapy and having a less stressful home environment, he’s been doing much better.”

“What if they come back?”

Grandma, who’d had a niggling suspicion that had just turned into a full blown fact, quietly said, “Most of your worries seem to be centered around Stiles.”

“After Darla, he’s our most vulnerable pack member,” Peter said, oblivious to any implication his mother may have just made.

There was silence for a moment as Grandma decided whether it would be helpful to push the subject. Eventually, she just sighed and went to stand next to Peter at the window. She put her hands on his shoulders and turned him to look at her.

“Regardless of any of that, it’s not your responsibility to gain information at the expense of your health. Go to bed, Peter. We can talk more about this another time.”

She pulled his head down so she could kiss him on top of it, and then left the office.

* * *

Stiles usually spent one dinner a week with his dad, on whichever night he happened to not be working. These days, they cooked together rather than Stiles preparing and then saving the leftovers for him.

John was 8 months sober. Stiles couldn’t be prouder, and every conversation where his dad still hadn’t had anything to drink was enough to make him thrille

“You’re about a month into school now, right? Are your classes good?”

“They’re classes,” Stiles said, as if that was explanation enough. “I’d rather be having Cora teach me how to beat up a kelpie or watching Peter suffer through Piranhaconda, but for classes they’re fine. In Geometry, we’re-”

Stiles loved talking to his dad now. He actually listened and responded, and even though Stiles wouldn’t be moving back any time soon, he still cherished these evenings together.

“-and last week we met these guys, Danny and Lydia, who I guess hang out with Jackson, the Jackson that stole Scott’s inhaler in sixth grade? And we’re going to form a Gay-Straight Alliance for the school, although I don’t think we actually have any for-sure straight people in it yet, so maybe it’s just the Gay-Also Gay Alliance-”

His dad had a strange look on his face. So strange that it made Stiles pause and think back over what he’d just said.

Oh _shit_.

He hadn’t actually had that conversation with his dad yet.

He hadn’t actually had that conversation with _anyone_ yet.

He’d never had to talk to the Hales about it. They could smell it every time someone so much as thought a peach looked like a butt, much less whether they got excited when both Captain America and Agent Carter were on screen. At some point it was just generally acknowledged that when it came down to the Straight Hales vs. Queer Hales basketball game, Stiles would be on the same team as Peter, Lila, Cora, and Bill.

He hadn’t even had to come out to Scott, because he spent enough time with the Hales and Stiles that he’d just picked up on it.

His dad though…

_Shit._

“Um,” he said eloquently.

John cleared his throat, still resonating the wave of surprise that had struck him a moment ago. “So you, uh, you’re not straight?”

“All signs point to no,” Stiles said, wondering if it was good to come out with Magic 8 Ball answers.

“You’re… gay?” John asked hesitantly.

“Bi, probably. I mean, I’m still fourteen. I’m not one hundred percent committed to the label. Like, I’m not going to go get a ‘BISEXUAL’ knuckle tattoo, although that would be pretty cool, but what if I get older and decide pansexual fits me better? Or maybe I’ll turn out to be super gay, just all homo all the time, or what if someday I realize I’m a trans girl and was actually straight this whole time, just the other way around, I mean, I’m pretty comfortable as a dude right n-”

“Stiles!” John finally grabbed Stiles’ shoulder, stopping the increasingly panicked flow of words. “Stiles, stop- it’s fine. Of course it’s fine, whatever your identity works out as, it’ll be fine.”

Stiles took a deep breath, nodding, trying to let go of his sudden anxiety adrenaline rush and grab onto his dad’s love and concern.

“I love you regardless, you know that right? I was just a little bit surprised. No matter if you’re my bi son now or my straight daughter in twenty years, I’ll still love and accept you the same. You don’t need to justify or change anything.” John’s expression was open and earnest.

Stiles bit his lip and nodded again.

John looked at his child, and pulled him into a tight hug. Stiles could feel his sincere desperation to provide comfort. Stiles couldn’t help it; a few tears fell from his face onto his dad’s shirt.

Consciously, he’d known John would be happy with Stiles regardless of his sexuality, but… when someone’s opinion matters, there’s always worry.

And even though he hadn’t been entirely aware of it, his father was the last person whose opinion he didn’t have, and whose opinion also mattered. The relief of having John’s concrete acceptance was like putting down a 40 pound weight he hadn’t known he was carrying.

Turns out Magic 8 Ball answers _are_ good for coming out.

* * *

“HEY WILL GRAHAM! COME UP HERE FOR A MINUTE,” Peter yelled out the door of his office. 

“GRANDMA’S THE ONLY ONE ALLOWED TO CALL ME THAT,” Stiles yelled back as he took the stairs up, two at a time.

“I found another book for you,” Peter said after Stiles came in. Stiles made grabby hands at him.

“That’s not cute, you know,” Peter said as he handed the book over.

“Then why do you feel so affectionate when I do it?” Stiles asked smugly without looking up from the table of contents he’d opened to.

“You can barely feel my emotions!” Peter protested.

“Exactly, so when I do feel something from you I know it’s _strong as hell._ I’m your favoriiiiite,” Stiles singsonged.

Peter rolled his eyes and tried to hide a smile. “There’s not a whole lot about psychic variants directly in there, but there is a lot of information about Fae-descended humans. It’s probably something worth looking into. Not much practical information, but ideas to explore.

Stiles grinned happily, looking up from the book at Peter.

“Thank you so much Peter! This is great!” He jumped over and gave Peter a big hug before settling down in the corner of his office on a pile of pillows. Peter looked at him, immensely satisfied, and returned to his own work with a sense of peace.

* * *

Beacon Hills High School was having a very educational day.

First, Stiles, Lydia, and Scott learned that after three months, they _still_ didn’t have a teacher sponsor for the GSA.

“Mrs. Sanderson said no,” Danny announced glumly in the hallway during the passing period.

“I _told_ you. Her son, that Junior David who always wears polos? He’s constantly sharing ‘research’,” Lydia made finger quotes, “from Focus on the Family on Facebook. She’s not going to volunteer to oversee a bunch of gay teenagers.” She angrily tapped her manicured nails on her hip.

Stiles could feel a roiling disgust just down the hall, by the next section of lockers. He looked up and saw Mrs. Sanderson standing next to her son.

Mrs. Sanderson disappeared back into her classroom, and David locked eyes with Stiles.

Shit.

“Ah, maybe we should go-”

“Hey!”

Danny looked up and tensed at seeing who was jogging over.

“Hey guys! My mom just said you’re thinking about starting a Gay-Straight Alliance at the school?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Danny said in that calm, friendly way of his. “We have permission from the principal, we’re just looking for a teacher to sponsor us and give us a classroom to meet in.”

David pinched his lips. “Alright, okay- but, you know there’s a conversion therapy group that meets at the Rec Center? You should really try it out.”

Danny’s friendly facade was just barely hanging on after the words “conversion therapy” were dropped, but he managed to say “Thanks for letting us know. We have to go-”

And that’s when they learned that Cora’s class let out early, allowing her to show up halfway through the conversation before going to her next class.

“Hey, what did Mrs. Sanderson say?” she asked, butting in between Stiles and Lydia, taking a drink from her water bottle.

“... she turned us down,” Danny said carefully, keeping an eye on David.

Cora snorted. “Jerk. What, is she worried about our gay little hands getting all over her classroom?”

David stiffly said “Not everyone chooses to endorse your lifestyle.”

Cora eyed him up and down.

“What, the lifestyle of someone who’s honest about who they are?”

“The lifestyle of someone who doesn’t care about spitting in the face of God,” David said angrily.

That’s when Stiles learned that his mouth filter doesn’t work when his pack is insulted.

“I mean, face spitting isn’t on my kink list but if it’s what God’s into then I won’t judge,” he said, stealing the water bottle for a swig.

There was silence for a moment before Scott burst into a nervous, high pitched giggle and Lydia whispered “Oh my god,” as she put a hand over her face.

David took an aggressive step forward.

“You’re _disgusting,_ you sick-”

Danny put a hand on his chest, encouraging him backward. “Hey, why don’t we all just take a brea-”

“Don’t touch me, fag!”

And _that_ is when the entire student body of Beacon Hills High school learned that Cora Hale can and will beat the shit out of a boy two years older and twice her size.

It took ten violent minutes for the econ teacher to come and break up the fight, send David to the nurse and bring everyone else into his classroom.

Everyone was quiet and tense, waiting for him to start chewing them out.

“You the kids trying to start a GSA?” he asked after a solid minute of silence.

Danny nodded slowly, cautious.

Stiles caught an empathic wave from the teacher, and suddenly thought that maybe Danny didn’t have a reason to be.

The econ teacher looked at all of them, one by one.

“I’ll sponsor your club,” he said abruptly. “This school needs a little encouragement to not be bigoted assholes.”

Everyone stared at him in disbelief.

 _“But._ I’ll only do it if you,” he pointed at Danny, “you,” he pointed at Cora, “and that tall blond kid, the one made out of cheekbones, all try out for lacrosse after winter break.”

Stiles’ mouth was open.

“Yes,” Danny blurted. “Yes, we’ll do it. Thank you, Mr. Finstock-”

“That’s Coach Finstock,” he corrected, just as the classroom door opened and the principal came in.

“Don’t worry about it, I gave ‘em all a good talking to,” Finstock said to the confused principal, ushering the kids out of the classroom. “Real penitent, real upset, bye kids, see you at the first GSA meeting; we’ll talk about the best ways to handle homophobia in academia. My vote is for Hale’s right hook to become the standard-”

Later that afternoon, Jackson learned that he would be on the lacrosse team in two months.

“But I don’t even _play_ lacrosse?” he asked, confused.

“You do now,” said Danny and Lydia together.

All in all, it was a _very_ educational day at Beacon Hills High School.

* * *

They celebrated getting a teacher to sponsor their GSA by having everyone over at the Hale’s on Friday evening.

They were debating what movie to watch when Peter and Savage Grandma came back from mailing Laura, and now also Derek’s, weekly package to NYU.

Peter leaned over the back of the couch, resting his chin on Stiles’ head to look at the options on the coffee table.

“If you’re going to force them to watch one of your horrible movies, you should pick ‘Sharknado 3: Oh Hell No!’ That way we might have enough trauma survivors to start a support group."

“It must be so hard living without a sense of cinematic wonder,” Stiles said as he reached up to pat Peter’s cheek. “Truly, I don’t know how you survive.”

Peter playfully snapped his teeth at Stiles’ fingers, making him giggle.

Lydia and Danny stared at them, while Jackson sneered at the movie selection and Scott dug through the peanut M&M’s to pick out the red ones.

Cora glanced between Peter & Stiles and Lydia & Danny and cleared her throat.

“Hey Peter, you going somewhere else tonight?” she asked in a tone that she hoped suggested _Peter you should go somewhere else tonight._ Or at least possibly _tone down the pack touchyness._

“Yeah Peter,” Savage Grandma called from the kitchen, “shouldn’t you be headed out on a date or something?”

“Nah,” he said as he messed up Cora’s hair and smoothed a palm over Stiles’ shoulder, leaving them to their low budget Sci-fi.

He entered the kitchen to see Grandma at the table with a Rubix Cube someone had left out.

“Not many dates lately,” she said casually, as she twisted the sides around.

Peter shrugged and sat down next to her. “I’ve been busy. It’s not like there’s a huge twenty-something gay scene around Beacon Hills.”

“Hm,” she agreed absently. “That certainly didn’t stop you in high school. Or any time in your life for that matter… until recently.”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows. “Is this about the research again? Because I’ve cut back. I’ve been digging through a few old texts on psychic phenomena in wolf packs, but no more than three or four hours a d-”

“No, it’s not about the research. Not directly, anyway.” She finished the cube and looked at it for a minute before scrambling it and setting it down on the table. Peter picked it up.

“I’m just saying some socialization outside the pack might be good for you,” Savage Grandma said. “Go sing karaoke with drunk idiots or go to the Jungle and get laid."

Peter frowned at the Rubix Cube. “I don’t want to.”

He could feel his mother’s sharp eyes looking at him. He continued twisting the Rubix Cube, unsure of why he felt like he was hiding something. He really _didn’t_ want to sleep with anyone. He hadn’t had any interest in dating or fucking since… well, for a while.

“It’s not that weird, these things ebb and flow,” Peter shrugged, forcing himself to stay casual  
“Hm, yeah, they do, but there are usually reasons behind the ebb and the flow,” Grandma reasoned. “It’s something to think about.” She got up and left the kitchen table alone to Peter and the Rubix Cube.

He glanced into the living room as he moved the pieces around. Stiles was laughing at something that other boy, the one who Stiles said was always calm, had joked.

Stiles would probably appreciate that, being around someone who was always calm.

Not as much as being around Peter, though. Peter could give him true quiet.

Peter frowned down at the vexing cube. He tossed it on the kitchen table. It didn’t need to be solved anyway.

* * *

Two months later, Danny, Cora, and Jackson joined the lacrosse team.

On the high of winning a first string spot, Danny asked Stiles on a date.

Stiles said yes, and they shared their first kiss.

And Peter finally solved the puzzle.

**Author's Note:**

> Peterrrrrrr water u gonna doooo??? Water u gonna do Peterrrrrr? 
> 
> Ya there's definitely going to be a lil bit of Peter Angst in the next one.
> 
> Anyway, BH lacrosse is co-ed, because of the "Transformative" part of "Transformative Works." 
> 
> Just FYI the next work will probably (I'm only 500 words into it lol) have several minor Stiles/Other People pairings. Peter and Stiles are Big Endgame here, and I don't think I'll be going into the others in detail. But like, if that super bums you out then you might want to skip it? Idk, I should probably write it first.
> 
> Also this bisexual definitely wants a bisexual knuckle tattoo. 
> 
> Also also, Mrs. Sanderson definitely wore a "Porn Kills Love" shirt to school once and the Finstock laughed at her for a solid five minutes before the principal made her change.


End file.
